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the care of pleasing the Author of his being. In prose Addison never deviates from his track to snatch a grace; he seeks no ambitious ornaments, and tries no bazardous innovations. His page is always luminous, but never blazes in unexpected splendor. His sentences have neither studied amplitude, nor affected brerity; his periods, tho' not diligently rounded, are valuable and easy. Wboever wishes to attain an English style, familiar, but not coarse, and elegant, but not ostentatious, must give bis days and nights to tbe volumes of Addison."
A SONG FOR ST, CECILIA'S DAY, AT OXFORD
Cecilia, whose exalted hymns
with joy and wonder fill the blest, in choirs of warbling seraphims
known and distinguish'd from the rest; attend, harmonious saint, and see
thy vocal sons of harmony; attend, harmonious saint, and hear our prayers;
enliven all our earthly airs, - and as thou sing'st thy God, teach us to sing of thee:
tune every string and every tongue, be thou the muse and subject of our song. 2 Let all Cecilia's praise proclaim,
employ the echo in her name.
'the organ labours in her praise,
from every voice the tuneful accents fly,
in soaring trebles now it rises high, and now it sinks, and dwells upon the base, Cecilia's name through all the notes we sing,
the work of every skilful tongue,
the sound of every trembling string,
to music and Cecilia;
and all of heaven we have below.
12 A SONG FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY. Addison,
with unsuspected eloquence can move,
When Orpheus strikes the trembling lyre,
the wolf and lamb around him trip,
the bears in awkward measures leap,
and tigers mingle in the dance.
it wakes the soul, and lifts it high,
and fils it to bespeaks the Deity. TO' Almighty listens to a tuneful tongue, and seems well pleas'd and courted with a song.
Soft moving sounds and heavenly airs give force to every word, and recommend our
When time itself shall be no more, (prayers. and all things in confusion hurld,
music shall then exert it's power, and sound survive the ruins of the world :
then saints and angels shall agree
in one eternal jubilee: all heaven shall echo with their hymns divine,
and God himself with pleasure see the whole creation in a chorus join.
invade the hallow'il bounds, nor rudely shake the tuneful air,
nor spoil the fleeting sounds.
Nor mournful sigh nor groan be heard,
but gladness dwell on every tongue: whilst all, with voice and strings prepar'd,
keep up the loud harmonious song. And imitate the blest above, in joy, and harmony, and love.
A LETTER FROM ITALY,
. TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE CHARLES LORD HALIFAX,
IN THE YEAR MDCCI,
" Salve magna parens frugum Saturnia tellus,
VIRG. Georg. ii. While you, my Lord, the rural shades admire. and from Britannia's public posts retire, nor longer, her ungrateful sons to please, for their advantage sacrifice your ease: me into foreign realms my fate conveys, through nations fruitful of immortal lays, where the soft season and inviting clime conspire to trouble your repose with rhyme.
For wheresoe'er I turn my ravish'd eyes, gay gilded scenes and shining prospects rise, poetic fields encompass me around, and still I seein to tread on classic ground; for here the Muse so oft her harp has strong, that not a mountain rears its head unsung, renown'd in verse each shady thicket grows, and every stream in heavenly nuinbers flows. How am I pleas'd to search the hills and woods for rising springs and celebrated foods !
to view the Nar, tumultuous jo his course, and trace the sinooth Clitumuus to his source, to see the Mincio draw bis watery store, through the long windings of a fruitful shore, and hoary Albula's insected tide o'er the warm bed of smoking sulphur glide.
Fir'd with a thousand raptures, I survey Eridanus through flowery, meadows stray, the king of floods! that, rolling o'er the plains, the towering Alps of half their moisture drains and proudly swoln with a whole winter's snows distributes wealth and plenty where he flows.
Sometimes, misguided by the tuneful throng, I look for streams immortalizirl in song, that lost in silence and oblivion lie, (dumb are their fountains and their channels dry yet run for ever by the Muse's skill, and in the smooth description murmur still.
Sometimes to gentle Tiber I retire, and the fam'd river's empty shores admire, that destitute of strength derives it's course · from thrifty urns and an unfruitful source; yet sung so often in poetic lays, with scorn the Danube and the Nile surveys; so high the breathless Muse exalts her theme ! such was the Boyne, a poor inglorious stream, that in Hibernian vales obscurely stray'd, and unobserv'd in wild meanders play'd; till by your lines and Nassau's sword renown'd, it's rising billows through the world resound, wbere'er the hero's godlike acts can pierce, or where the fame of an immortal verse.
Oh could the Muse my ravish'd breast inspire with warmth like your's and raise an equal fire,